


Not Made of Stone

by babywarg (morphaileffect)



Series: Ironstrange Bingo [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst and Humor, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 00:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18954301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/babywarg
Summary: [College AU] Stephen and Tony make a bet: whoever gets a lower grade in his midterm exams wears a mascot costume.Stephen loses, but it wasn't a fair fight. Tony sets out to make things even.





	Not Made of Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuples/gifts).



> Gosh, it feels like it’s been such a long time since I last wrote feel-good AU! I think the last one was the [coffeeshop AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988824)? This was fun to write! Hope you have fun reading, too.
> 
> How do you spell “hotdog”? Is it two words, as in “hot dog”? I used the first spelling here, sorry if it annoys you XD
> 
> Inspired by this [ubercute illustration by Clair](https://eclair.tumblr.com/post/183639761516/its-my-first-time-doing-a-bingo-event-for-fandom) . And by a very weird conversation involving the crack song [“Jumbo Hotdog” by Masculados](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MH0HKaiR0M). Please don’t ask, we won’t be able to explain XD
> 
> The title came from the [translated lyrics](https://babywarg.tumblr.com/post/183640713114/eclair-its-my-first-time-doing-a-bingo-event) to this crack song, because I am unimaginative and pressed for time.
> 
> For the Ironstrange Bingo square “Why would you do that?”

Stephen lost their bet.

And Tony should really be happy about it.

But when he heard that Stephen was already getting fitted for the bun costume, he somehow found himself upset.

(Why a bun, for starters? Why not a complete hotdog sandwich? Nobody could answer his question.)

It was just, he and Stephen were supposed to compete on equal footing.

Head to head, _mano a mano_ , goatee to goatee.

The bet was this: the one who got a lower average grade in the midterms, would have to wear a hotdog bun costume to the upcoming campus fair, where the Avengers Social Outreach Club is out to woo potential new recruits with a stand showing off cutting edge tech and selling fancy hotdogs for insanely cheap.

The competition was heated. Bets involving real money were flying around the dormitory building. Stephen and Tony traded barbs in public, all the way up to midterms week.

Then, on midterms week, Stephen’s father died.

Stephen barely passed.

If his father’s death was going to affect him, he should have filed for a leave of absence. But Stephen Strange insisted, all the way, that his father’s passing wasn’t a big deal.

Stephen Strange never missed a day of class, not even through his father’s wake and funeral.

And when his grades tanked, he accepted that he lost the bet he made with Tony, made a commitment that he was going to wear the bun costume to the campus fair, and showed up at the fitting to prove it.

Loki was taking a live video of the fitting - exclusively aired in their club’s private chatroom, of course.

Tony watched the video on his laptop, with Pepper and Rhodey looking over his shoulder.

“What a trooper,” Pepper said with genuine admiration.

“Please,” Tony scoffed, “He’ll be wearing a mascot costume, not superhero tights. Raising funds for our club isn’t exactly saving the world...”

“Considering we use the funds we raise for charity,” Rhodey pointed out, “it kind of _is_ like saving the world.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“I mean, if my father had just died,” Pepper said sympathetically, “I’d be a wreck.”

She would. Pepper loved her parents. As far as Tony knew, Stephen Strange never even _mentioned_ his parents.

People who loved their dads were a mystery to him. If Stephen Strange had also loved his dad, it would make sense the he didn’t make sense to Tony.

He simply, inexplicably, drew Tony in. As if Tony were a moth, and he a seductive flame.

“He’s too put-together to be a wreck,” he confidently declared. “Even if he felt bad, no one should be able to tell. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve or anything.”

Pepper and Rhodey looked at each other meaningfully. This did not escape Tony’s attention.

“What?”

“You’re into him,” Rhodey prodded. “just admit it.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Are you guys _high?_ I’m watching the dude get fitted for a hotdog bun costume. This is not turning me on.”

“You said that the last time, too,” Pepper muttered under her breath, scratching the back of her neck.

He turned away from the laptop, to face the two people giving him grief at the moment. “Okay, geniuses, _what_ last time?” he demanded.

“Remember when you couldn’t stop going on and on about Rogers?” Rhodey dared, folding his arms over his chest. “You kept singing praises of his ass, and then denying you were into him. And then he broke your heart.”

The memory threw Tony for a loop. His brain wanted his mouth to say _“Rogers did_ not _break my heart,”_ but his heart pushed for _“Fuck yeah he did, and I hope that buff bastard chokes on something.”_

Rhodey and Pepper had been with him since the beginning, and so they were witness to when Steve Rogers was still part of their club.

They were around to see Tony and Steve get on each other’s last nerve, to hear Tony mention Rogers on a daily basis, until Rogers finally did the _one thing_ that would have made him dead to Tony: gather up sympathetic people, and start his own club.

He’d started it up with Natasha, Wanda, that weirdo who insisted on being called just “Vision”, his childhood friend and fresh transfer Bucky, and a few new recruits. He got his sympathizers.

Tony should have let it slide. Steve had also started a social outreach club, though one more radical than his - anything to save the world, right?

But Steve had had to break his heart to do it. To say he didn’t agree with how Tony ran the club, and therefore had to leave. To tell Tony he just wasn’t good enough of a leader for him to respect.

And to _start up his own damn club._

Tony would have dwelt more on Steve’s departure...except aloof, arrogant, talented, uber-smart, handsome Stephen Strange joined the club soon after Steve left.

And gave him something new to occupy his time.

“I wasn’t - “ he began, but he knew he was just going to prove them right the more he spoke. So he sighed instead, turned back to the laptop.

“I bet he could use a friend right now,” Pepper remarked. “I mean, you may be right, Tones, and he won’t let it show, but...it’s probably killing him.”

A snicker from the livestream drew his attention back to it. Behind the camera, Loki was laughing, whispering _“Look, he’s turning around!”_

Stephen Strange really was turning around, as the costumers were telling him to do. He was doing it in a leisurely speed that struck Tony as _way_ too dramatic.

But when he faced Loki’s camera - without knowing there was a camera, no doubt - the bags under his eyes became more evident.

The sight of his weary face told Tony everything he needed to know.

It really was.

Killing him.

 

***

 

Stephen Strange was no quitter.

He’d made a bet to wear a stupid hotdog bun costume if he got a lower average grade than that clown Tony Stark did after midterms, and he lost -

And he was damn well going to stand by his loss.

Even if the ever-practical Wong kept telling him he didn’t have to.

“You just lost your dad,” Wong emphasized. “The Avengers aren’t a vindictive bunch. All you have to do is say you need a little slack, and they’ll go easy on you.”

Wong wasn’t a member of the Avengers club (“ASOC” - Stephen liked to call them, because “Avengers” was just _way_ too heroic a name for a group that the egotistical Tony Stark led) but his best friend was, and he had to sit and take all of Stephen’s griping about it - including and especially about the egotistical Tony Stark.

“No,” Stephen said firmly. “I made a bet, and I lost. I’m not going to back out just because my circumstances changed.”

Wong sighed loudly. Stephen knew his friend only had his best interest in mind, but wasn’t going to keep bashing his head against a brick wall, as it were.

And that was exactly how Stephen felt about himself at the time: a brick wall. Something solid, emotionless, impossible to permeate, keeping unexplainable things at bay.

Stoic, reserved Wong was a welcome companion in these chaotic times. But everyone else...

 _“Strange,”_ he heard a familiar voice call out. An involuntary groan escaped him.

Wong gestured to his locker, just a few steps away. “I have some things to fix up,” he said to Stephen. “Yell if you need me.”

Stephen didn’t answer, so Wong just walked off. His eyes were fixed on the newcomer, who was coming down the corridor with a slight but unmistakable swagger.

“Strange,” Tony greeted. “Can we talk?”

“What do you want, Stark?”

Tony threw his hands up again. “Geez. Put the guns down, okay?” He took a deep breath before saying, “I’m just here to tell you the bet’s off. You don’t have to wear the costume.”

Stephen stayed silent.

“Heck, you don’t even have to go to the fair if you don’t want to. You can just do whatever on fair day.”

“Am I off the club?”

Tony blinked. “What?”

“You’re talking as if I don’t have obligations to the club anymore. I made a commitment, and now you say I don’t have to keep it. Are you kicking me out?”

“Oh my God,” Tony exclaimed. “Everything has to be some kind of war to you, doesn’t it? _No,_ jackass, I’m letting you off the hook. Your dad just died, and...”

“My dad just died and _what_?” Stephen glared down at him. “I’m useless? I can’t be counted on to keep my word anymore?”

“Look.” Without breaking eye contact, Tony put his palms together and addressed Stephen slowly, seriously. “I don’t want to start a fight right now. We made a bet. You lost, but through no fault of your own. I mean, if things had been different, I would’ve happily let you parade your fine ass around in that ridiculous thing, but as it is - “

“As it is,” Stephen coldly interrupted, “we agreed that the person who got a lower average in the midterms had to wear it. We came to that agreement loudly, in the middle of the cafeteria, and the whole school heard. There’s going to be people expecting a hotdog costume at the fair. So don’t pretend this is just some _favor_ you’re doing me, because the reputation of the club is at stake. This is bigger than me _or_ you.”

Stark threw his hands up. “I can’t believe this. Guy wants to say he’s sorry for your loss and you make him feel like shit.”

Wait.

Stark was sorry for his loss...?

“I’m not making you feel like anything,” Stephen found himself saying much too softly.

“Whatever,” Tony retorted, annoyed. “I don’t know what I was expecting. Wear the damn costume, do whatever you want.”

Tony wheeled round and strode off, hands in his pockets and the swagger gone.

Wong finally stopped pretending he was doing important organizing work at his locker and approached Stephen again.

“I gather you heard that?” Stephen asked him.

“You mean the part where he said you had a fine ass?” Wong snorted. “Oh yeah.”

Wong walked on, and Stephen followed him, still absorbing what had just taken place.

Tony, along with the other members of ASOC, had been to his father’s wake. They hadn’t found Stephen there, because he was in the library studying for the midterms. He never asked the ASOC what they did at the wake, or what they said to his mom and his younger brother and sister, so he never really knew, pretending he never really cared.

But he heard today that Tony Stark was sorry for his loss. His long-time rival and frequent source of irritation actually sympathized with him.

And he found, to his surprise, that It actually meant a lot to him.

He was a brick wall.

But Tony Stark still got through.

 

***

 

The most dignified hotdog bun in the world made an appearance at the campus fair.

Heads turned. Whispers flew. _Hey, isn’t that Stephen Strange, the whiz kid?_

 _Whoa. Didn’t expect to see_ that _in my lifetime..._

_Heard he lost a bet._

_This is the sort of silliness Stark would come up with._

_Well, better him than Tony._

As annoying as he was, Tony had his admirers, Stephen knew. Tony was extroverted and charismatic. Between the sarcastic, cold and caustic “whiz kid” and the sarcastic but sociable, thrill-seeking “iron man,” people would like the latter more.

There was plenty to like, anyway, Stephen admitted. And this would probably be a lot more fun if Tony had been the one who’d lost the bet. He‘d be a good sport. Maybe even come up with gimmicks to make his costume more appealing - maybe make it light up, play loud rock music, or something.

He was _just_ thinking that, when he approached the flashy ASOC fundraising booth.

And saw that Tony was already there.

In a costume.

A _hotdog_ costume.

And looking unreasonably happy about it.

People were already flocking to the ASOC booth, partly drawn to the mascot’s natural effervescence, partly to the tech on display, and partly to the food (they really were good hotdogs).

Tony Stark, the hotdog mascot, greeted Stephen with a smartass grin when they locked gazes finally.

“You’re so late,” Tony remarked. “People have been asking me where my bun was. I was starting to feel naked out here.”

Before everyone’s eyes, bun pulled hotdog aside roughly. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to alarm the crowd of people around the stall.

“What are you doing?” Stephen urgently whispered.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tony didn’t seem fazed.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“You just got here,” Tony laughed. “I haven’t had time to properly make fun of you yet.”

Stephen shut his eyes, sighed, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose, in that order.

“Why would you do this?” he groaned.

“What, this?” Tony gestured to his costume. “I dunno, I woke up and thought ‘Hey - today’s the day when Stephen Strange gets to strut around the campus fair getting everyone’s attention! I can’t let him have all the fun!’ “

“So you’re here to upstage me, is that it?”

Tony shrugged. “There’s no reason we can’t share the spotlight. What’s the matter, worried I might steal it?”

“The matter,” Stephen acidly replied, “is that you don’t _have_ to do this.”

“Well, I told you that you don’t have to do this either.” Tony beamed. “But since you were dead set on doing it, I just thought I shouldn’t let you do this alone.”

His enthusiasm was baffling, but unshakeable.

“Again,” Stephen asked wearily, “why?”

Tony tried to sling an arm around Stephen’s shoulders, but their costumes prevented him from doing so effectively.

So he just settled for a hand on Stephen’s arm.

“Listen,” he said with unusual seriousness. “You don’t have to go through whatever you’re going through alone, okay? You’re part of a team. This is what it means.”

 

***

 

They found themselves spending their lunch break together, too.

Stephen feebly hoped no one was going to be too weirded out by the sight of a hotdog and a bun sitting together eating...hotdogs. Although he was sure a couple of passers-by snapped a pic or two...

Tongues were already wagging, Stephen was sure. Every time Stephen and Tony were seen in public together, they were on full snark mode. Heck, even during that morning of the fair, as they waved passers-by over to their stall, they tossed insults back and forth.

They were academic rivals, who habitually put on a show.

They were used to it, and their audience was used to it.

But this time, they weren’t at each other's throats. They were just sitting together quietly. For what felt like the first time ever.

Stephen ate slowly. A mess of thoughts raced through his head.

“What kind of man was he?” Tony asked out of nowhere. “Your dad.”

Stephen stared at him, unsure of how to answer - if he was even going to answer.

After a long pause, he replied, softly:

“Complained a lot. Always said we didn’t have enough money, griped about how it was so expensive to have a family. Kept telling all of us we were a problem for him. That he’d be happier if he’d never married. Maybe healthier, even. Like, maybe he wouldn’t even have gotten sick.”

He stammered a bit as he spoke. It didn’t escape Tony, who kept a respectful silence.

“My father had been sick for a long time. He was working even in his deathbed. Saying even in delirium that he couldn’t leave his family penniless.”

Stephen put down his unfinished food, leaned forward to loosely hug his knees.

“I don’t want to end up like him,” he confessed to Tony. “But when I think about it...he never abandoned us. Gave everything to us, all the way up to the end. Made sure we’d be okay even after he was gone.”

Stephen’s voice cracked as he spoke. He pinched the bridge of his nose again. But this time, it was to disguise the fact that he was wiping his eyes dry.

“He wasn’t the best dad, but he was mine,” he sighed. “Now that I don’t have him anymore, what am I supposed to feel?”

Tony started to say something. Thought the better of it and shut his mouth.

He started to reach out, to touch Stephen’s shoulder. But he thought the better of that, too, and drew his hand back.

“You know what?” he said eventually. “My dad wasn’t the best either.”

Stephen snorted, inwardly saying _Of course, right after I pour my heart out, you’d make the whole thing about you._

“Mostly ignored me and my mom,” Tony continued, clueless. “Dumped me in boarding schools, left me to the care of other people. And, during the few times we talked, it always felt like he was giving me a chance to prove myself worthy of his attention. As if I was one of his employees, who had to fear him and earn his respect. At one point, I just said ‘screw it’ and gave up.”

There was a lot to unpack there. Stephen wondered if he would have a chance to ask Tony about it later.

He was surprised to find himself hoping that he would.

“Yeah, my old man really didn’t care about anyone but himself,” Tony said, shrugging. “But when he’s gone, I think I’ll be sad about it. And I think...it’ll be all right. It’ll be okay to be sad. It’s like - you lost your mold, you know? One half of what makes you, _you_.”

“I don’t think of it like that,” Stephen interrupted.

“Huh?”

Stephen hesitated. He was about to say something nice to Tony Stark. He worried about others overhearing, and this coming back to bite him in the ass some way later.

...Then he decided: what the hell. He was in a bun costume. Now was not a good time to be worried about his reputation.

“I’ve seen you with the older members of ASOC,” he said to Tony. “You genuinely care about people. You’re your own person, Tony. People don’t just respect you for your brains, they _like_ you. Which is more than I can say for myself. I‘m more like my dad than maybe I care to admit.”

He was a bit taken aback by how quickly Tony’s face melted into a smile, then a grin. Maybe what he’d just said was _too_ nice?

Whatever. He just said what he felt.

“You know what,” Tony replied. “If you’re worried you’re going to end up like your dad...don’t be.”

One of Stephen’s eyebrows rose.

“You’re too stubborn. And too weird. And too smart to repeat your parents’ mistakes.”

Tony leaned back on his hands, turned his face up to the sky, and continued:

“I know you care about other people, too - and I don’t just mean your buddy Wong. You always have the ASOC’s best interest at heart. You always make sure things go right for us, even if you have to swallow your pride and do drastic things. Maybe it’ll just take a bit of practice before you can really open up and let other people in. But it’s in you to do it, and it’s going to be worth it when you do.”

And Stephen was taken aback by how deeply those words struck.

He didn’t feel like a wall today. Not today.

“Thank you, Tony, that’s,” - he managed to stop himself from overshooting with the nice this time - “decent of you to say.”

Tony grunted. “You know what, contrary to popular opinion, I like you.” _A lot._ “I think you just need to be told it’s fine to be human now and again.”

A chuckle escaped Stephen.

“As opposed to being what? An iron man?”

Tony smirked.

“You just _wish_ you could be an iron man, loser.” He play-punched the side of Stephen’s costume.

 

***

 

When the two hotdog mascots came back to the stall, they were actually smiling and laughing. _Laughing_.

People couldn’t believe it.

“Was there something in these hotdogs?” Clint asked, glancing down at the sandwich he hadn’t finished preparing.

“Maybe there’s something in those costumes,” Bruce remarked, squinting. “Cuts off the flow of blood to their brains, or something...”

“Do we have any more soda?” A grimacing Stephen said to the other ASOC members. “This costume’s an oven and I’m parched.”

“A drink for me and my man Stephen Strange,” Tony said loudly. He hooked his arm around Stephen’s. “Who is one hot dog.”

[illustration by [Clair](https://eclair.tumblr.com/post/183639761516/its-my-first-time-doing-a-bingo-event-for-fandom)]

 

Stephen rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away briskly. “You were just waiting to spring that pun on everyone, weren't you?” he quipped. "Don't get too familiar."

Oh yeah, the onlookers collectively thought: the rivals were back.

Bruce handed them a cup of soda each. Stephen thanked him and moved away, nursing his cold drink.

Tony took his own cup and pensively watched Stephen go. He leaned back against the front of the ASOC stall.

Rhodey walked up to him, whispered aside: “I gather from your cheerful, hairy little faces that you told him and it went well?”

“Told him what?” Tony whispered back, blinking. “ _What_ went well? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s gonna tell Stephen someday, Rhodey,” Pepper chuckled from the cooking counter. “Don’t rush him.”

“Honestly, guys, I don’t know what you mean,” Tony said, feigning innocence. “We’re just friends.”

Pepper and Rhodey looked at each other, both fighting a snicker.

“Friends, okay, yeah,” Rhodey remarked. “I’ll take it. You weren’t ‘friends’ yesterday, so who knows what you’ll be tomorrow?”

Tony rewarded that sentiment with a thoughtful smile.

Sometimes it was great to be reminded that he was in a special group of people - all driven to making a difference in the world for their own reasons.

And sometimes, some of those people would get to him in special ways.

“Tomorrow, we’ll still be saving the world,” he said quietly - his eyes on Stephen Strange, who was standing with his back turned, a short distance off. “But this time, out of costume.”


End file.
